


The Littlest Recruit

by brightephemera



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gifts, Pets, Pre-Relationship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:28:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27642767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightephemera/pseuds/brightephemera
Summary: Inquisitor Isten has been getting along with her Commander, which makes things easier when he calls her in for a new kind of acquisition.
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	The Littlest Recruit

Isten loved writing letters, and memos, and bulletins, not to mention announcements, proclamations, and exhortations. The Inquisitor had a responsibility to investigate Fade rifts, but her happiest moments were spent at her Skyhold writing desk beside a crackling fire, calling worlds forth in flowing calligraphy. Between letters she argued with friends and visitors over snacks or browsed her missal of the Chant of Light, having already memorized the words of her new faith but feeling secure that she had a kind man’s copy of it.

“Inquisitor?” Her door was always open. Now the man himself stood in the doorway. With that coat Commander Rutherford always looked ruffled. It had taken her a long time to realize that his air of concern was just his type of normal. He wasn’t actively upset by default.

“Commander,” she said warmly. “Please, come in. Is everything all right?”

“That’s a complicated question,” he drawled. “Could you come with me? It’s not very important, but you should see it.”

She knew enough to trust his judgment. “Of course,” she said.

She had left her hand poised over her letter with a drop of ink trembling at the tip. When she moved to set it aside the drop fell, spoiling a flourish on a “v.” Marvel at perfection, she thought ruefully, for it is fleeting. She pushed aside the urge to redo the entire paper. Someone needed her, and that was more important than ideal handwriting.

On their way out of the castle proper they made small talk about the state of the fortifications and the composition of her ranging parties. She was surprised to learn that he approved of her keeping her time in the field to a minimum.

“There’s only one of you,” he said. “And that means you travel for rifts, but it also means you should be protected. I can’t do that in the field.”

“You can send me an army,” she said reasonably. She wouldn’t like it, but she could see the advantages, and it would give him a sense of agency.

He eyed her sidelong. “Don’t think I haven’t considered it.”

He brought her up to his office on the battlements. It was a strange room, draughty and cramped, bare stone but for a table covered in papers, weapons, maps, and oddments. Just at this moment the piles were crowned with a high basket lined with powder-blue cloth.

Rutherford peered into it. “Oh, no.” His expression turned stormy.

“Whatever it is, it’s not the basket’s fault.”

He let go the basket and looked wildly around the room. “There are only so many places she could have gone…” and he started rifling through the more precarious piles.

Something yowled piteously from under the window. Isten darted to her knees and found a yellow and white kitten no bigger than her two fists together.

“Nath Ghilan'nain,” she whispered, falling back on her childhood’s oaths. “Oh, a kitty. It’ll hate me.” She reached out. The kitten sniffed and pawed her way into Isten’s cupped hands.

“Look at this,” she said, standing. The kitten felt light as air. “She isn’t running away. Cats always run away. Sometimes they scratch first.” In her excitement her sentences were getting choppy and she didn’t care. “Maybe she doesn’t have big enough claws yet?”

The Commander grinned. “I thought if I got them young enough I could convince one to stay.”

“She’s darling! Where are her brothers and sisters?”

“My men made short work of them.” She stared. “No! I meant, they’ve all been adopted. By people who should know better, but that’s as may be. I had to pull rank to get this one.”

The kitten peered up at Isten and yowled again, a drawn-out low-high-low affair. Isten raised her to eye level and stared into the wide blue eyes. The cat’s nose twitched through another yowl. Isten sighed. “Maybe she does hate me.”

“I don’t think so. She yelled like that after ten seconds in the basket, too. And when I tried to feed her.”

“Feeding! She’ll want milk, at her age. Water, too. Two saucers should do. And I’ll need a bed—can I keep her in my quarters?”

He chuckled. “She’s your pet, Isten. I just deliver.”

“Velvet. Velvet and steak. —What are you laughing at?”

“Laughing?” He cleared his throat, but not his smile. “You’re just taking care of everything again.”

“Of course I am. She’s one of mine now.” She stroked the silky yellow fur. “I…would do the same for you, but you know where to find your own steak. I think I’ll name her Holly.” She grinned. “Short for Hollerer.”

Rutherford, who had seemed to be on the verge of questioning, grinned. “You always did have a way with words.”

“Thank you. Did I thank you? She’s lovely. You have to stop giving me wonderful things, I don’t know what to do for you in return, except…” she looked up and around. Except everything. “Except keep fixing the Veil,” she said lamely.

“A point that’s greatly appreciated, but it’s not a transaction. I know you haven’t had the best luck with cats. When I saw the chance, I had to take it.”

Isten let Holly down into the basket. She turned to Ruther—Cullen and tried to guess whether he would like contact. Truly, everybody around here treated her like an icon, and maybe that was necessary, but…then there was him. And that coat looked so soft.

Without weapon and without shield she tried to hug him, and he hugged her back with strong arms. The moment stretched, warm and secure. Finally she pulled back a tiny bit. Just enough to check the look in his eyes, to see whether it had changed.

It was fire, and light, and his eyes were wide and his breath was warm on her lips. It was new being held like this. It was something she would rewrite her entire rule set to accommodate.

A battering ram or a farcically poorly timed messenger pounded the door. Isten and Cullen sprang apart. She smoothed her hair; he smoothed his coat. He unbarred the door.

It was a soldier who spoke in rapid, low tones. Cullen groaned and angled his head back toward Isten. “I need to deal with this, I’m afraid.”

Yes. Right. Duty. “Can I help?”

“It’s nothing to bother you with.”

She thought of the next rift she would have to close…and the next, and the next. And that wasn’t even starting on his responsibilities. “When will I see you again?”

“Soon. I’ll find you. And you…do what you need to do. Then come home.” So he christened Skyhold like nothing had before. Yes, she could see the fire even at this distance.

“I promise.” She looked at the messenger, who was still right there, then at the basket. “Oh. Holly’s out again.”

Cullen smirked and blushed at the same time. “I really thought I had that under control, but it seems I don’t.” He was looking at her lips, not the cat’s likely hiding place.

“No, it’s really…going to be hard to manage her.” She was looking at his lips, not the cat’s likely hiding place. “That was a surprise.”

“A good one.”

“A good one.”

He was red to his ears. “Take good care of her.”

She hugged herself and tapped her breastbone. “I’ll see that she’s safe.” Oh, that was too vague. “She may get hungry.”

He coughed and seemed to battle a smile. “Is she already?”

She laughed to cover the obvious. The sound was its usual throaty gracelessness and it was enough to recall her to herself. “We’ll coordinate later,” she deadpanned, blushing. He smiled and bowed before one last long look. She tried to memorize him again, this time with the new stare. Then he was gone, and Holly beneath a candlestick hollered, inconsolable until Isten scooped her up and cuddled her close.


End file.
